


Fellowship

by Lbilover



Category: The Father Christmas Letters - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Crossover, Epistolary, Gen, Humor, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lbilover/pseuds/Lbilover
Summary: When the Elves go on strike, Father Christmas receives help from an unexpected source.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 B2MeM Bingo prompt: Crossover with another of Tolkien's works.

My Dear Friends,

Another Christmas has come and gone, and you will not believe what occurred only a week before the Big Day. The Elves went on strike! Yes, that's right, they did, even Ilbereth, if you can believe it (which explains the extra shaky handwriting, as I am writing this myself, the subject matter being rather sensitive). 

I blame it all on the Red Gnomes, who formed a union and were demanding fewer hours' work and more pay and bonuses for fighting Goblins. They must have started talking to the Elves and fomenting discord. I can think of no other explanation.

Well, as you can imagine, I was getting in a right old panic trying to figure how I was possibly going to be ready for Christmas this year without them! Paksu and Valkotukka were so fast asleep that I couldn't wake them, and the North Polar Bear had another disaster befall him, as if things weren't bad enough. As you may have heard, the weather keeps getting warmer and warmer and warmer up here, and poor NPB went out to visit his secret stash of chocolate (he thinks I don't know about it, but of course I do) when the ice he was on broke quite away and off he floated, out to sea. I couldn't get anyone to go and look for him. They were all on strike!

Now how, you might ask yourselves, was Father Christmas supposed to get the presents ready and deliver them without any help? A very good question. And the answer is: Fellowship. 

It happened like this. I took down my great Horn Windbeam, that I last used in 1939, the year of the Goblin attack, and blew several loud blasts. I had no real expectation of an answer, but two days' later, on Christmas Eve, as I sat at my work table with my head in my hands, contemplating a sheet of paper containing such befuddling and bewuthering phrases as 'single payer system' and 'cost of living increase', a rapping came on the door. Not the bare knuckles kind of rapping, nor even the mittened kind, but as if someone were hitting it with a stick. My beautiful front door! I jumped up and rushed to open the door, and hey presto! Nine people of varying sizes and shapes tumbled onto the hall carpet.

I assisted them to rise, and a curious group they were, too, I may say. There was a Wizard (yes, an actual Wizard!) with a pointy grey hat, grey robes and a glittery blue scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows and held a curiously carved wooden staff. I felt certain that it was he who had knocked on the door and put a dent in the paint. (But I soon forgave him, as you will see.) There were two Men, tall and lordly, and one was dressed in rich furs and carried an ornate horn, and the other was clad in worn leather and looked weather-beaten and grim, but he had girt at his side a beautiful sword. I suspected immediately that there was more to him than met the eye. There was an Elf, though nothing like to my Elves. He was tall and supple as a sapling, dressed all in green and brown with a great bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his back, and his hair was long and blond and braided at the temples. A Dwarf there was, too, in chain mail and carrying an axe. 

And then, most curious of all, there were four small figures, taller than my Elves, but half the height of a Man. (Fortunately they were on top of the pile or they'd have been squashed flat!) They were ￼dressed most colorfully in blues, greens and yellows, and to my astonishment, they wore neither shoes nor boots, but their feet were covered in thick curling hair right up to their ankles. 

One of them, who had dark curly hair and the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen, bowed to me most politely and said, 'Frodo Baggins at your service.'

Well, of course I bowed back and said, 'Father Christmas at yours. To what do I owe the honour of this visit?' I feared they might require food and lodging, and how I was supposed to manage it when my helpers were on strike, I had no least notion.

'We have come,' said Frodo Baggins, 'to assist you in your hour of need. My dear friend Gandalf the Wizard here,' and the Wizard removed his hat and swept a bow, 'has informed us that the Elves and Gnomes are on strike and you may not be able to deliver the children's Christmas presents on time.'

'Bless my beard!' I exclaimed. I repeated it, so astonished was I. 'Bless my beard!'

'And so I hope it will be, my good Father Christmas,' said Gandalf, running his hand down his own beard which was, I must tell you, longer and bushier than my own. 'Let me introduce the rest of our Fellowship to you. These two stalwart Men are Aragorn son of Arathorn and Boromir son of Denethor. The Elf is Legolas of the Woodland Realm, the Dwarf is Gimli son of Glóin of the Lonely Mountain, and the other hobbits are Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took.'

'Hobbits?' I repeated.

'Of the Shire,' said the one called Meriadoc.

'I have never heard of hobbits or the Shire before,' I said politely. 'But you are most welcome to the North Pole.'

'And now that introductions have been made, shall we get down to business?' said Gandalf, who appeared to be a no-nonsense type of Wizard. 

'Aye,' piped up Peregrin Took. 'I'm hungry. Where's the food?'

'Pippin!' exclaimed several voices at the same time, and Gandalf bristled his brows at him (most impressive brows they were, for they stuck out beyond the brim of his hat) and thankfully the young hobbit subsided. You see, I've come to rely upon the NPB and Ilbereth so dreadfully, and every year the number of children I have to visit around the world grows and grows, leaving little time for the baking of cakes and tarts and such or the brewing tea for unexpected guests!

'You must tell us what needs doing, dear Father Christmas,' said Frodo in a soothing voice, 'and we shall see it done.'

'You have my sword,' declared Aragorn son of Arathorn.

'And you have my bow,' said Legolas of the Woodland Realm.￼

'And you have my axe,' said Gimli son of Glóin.

'Not to mention my frying pan,' added Samwise Gamgee, who indeed had several pans (not to mention pots) hung about his person.

Hope, which sadly had been in short supply of late (like Elves and Polar Bears) rose inside me. Perhaps Christmas might happen after all, I thought, with such stout-hearted and kindly folk to assist me. 

'As for what needs doing,' said I to Frodo Baggins, 'I am woefully behind on wrapping the presents, and nothing has been loaded in the sleigh. The reindeer have yet to be harnessed, and the poor North Polar Bear must be rescued from his ice floe, and the Elves persuaded to return to work. Oh dear. That is rather a lot, I'm afraid,' I ended apologetically.

'If it is the will of Father Christmas that these things be done, Gondor will see them done,' said the Man Boromir, and he raised his beautiful silver-chased horn to his lips and blew a blast so loud that paint flakes fell from the ceiling like snow.

'I will see to the reindeer,' Legolas said. 'I understand beasts, and they understand me.' 

'Merry, Pippin, Sam and I will finish wrapping presents,' said Frodo. 'Hobbits are quite nimble-fingered and we are used to wrapping things up. We give out presents nearly every single day of the year, you know.' He smiled at the two tall Men and the Dwarf. 'Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli can load the sleigh.'

'Which leaves me, dear Father Christmas,' Gandalf said, 'to rescue your friend the North Polar Bear from his ice floe, which I shall do with the able assistance of Gwaihir, Landroval and Meneldor, the great Eagles who bore us here.' 

And with that, in the twinkling of an eye, the Fellowship vanished to set about their tasks! It quite stole my breath away. Hardly had I recovered it when Sam Gamgee trotted into view, bearing a plate and a cup of tea. 

'I did a quick fry-up,' Sam said, setting plate and cup down on my work table. 'I reckon you can use a nice hot meal and a cuppa before you set out on your journey. My, but imagine flying all over the world in one night giving the little 'uns their toys and treats. You're a marvel and no mistake, Father Christmas, that you are. Now, just you eat up, sir, and don't fret about a thing. We ain't never failed in a task we set out to do, and we don't mean to start now.' After giving me an encouraging little pat on the shoulder, Sam trotted off again.

As I ate my fried fish and chips (and most excellent they were; clearly Sam Gamgee had meant what he said about his frying pan being at my service), things began to happen! Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli appeared, each carrying a dozen enormous burlap sacks bulging with perfectly wrapped presents, and outside I could hear the tuneful jingle of bells as Legolas harnessed the reindeer to the sleigh.

I had just eaten the last chip (perfectly crispy and golden) when the door opened and in came the North Polar Bear with Gandalf at his side. ￼That was a merry meeting! I gave NPB the rest of my fried fish and a large bar of chocolate, and sent him off to have a lie-down. (The poor fellow was quite done in by his latest misadventure, as you can imagine.)

You will hardly credit how speedily the Fellowship worked, but in no time at all it seemed, the presents were wrapped and the sleigh loaded, and I was climbing aboard, ready to set out on my journey (with eight minutes to spare!) The Fellowship gathered round and wished me godspeed, and I said, 'I do hope you'll stay the night, dear friends, and tomorrow we will have such a celebration as the North Pole has ever yet seen, with a bonfire and three years' worth of Northern Lights and thousands of silver sparklers.'

'And fireworks,' said Gandalf. 'I am rather well-known for mine.'

'And fireworks, my good Wizard,' I added, and bowed. Then I waved good-bye, chirruped to the reindeer, and off we flew, with three Great Eagles keeping us company on the flight. 

That is the end of my tale, save to tell you that all the presents were delivered on time, and we did have our celebration on Christmas Day. The magnificence of it (in particular Gandalf's fireworks, which are indeed superb) drew the Elves and Gnomes out of hiding in the caves! We called a truce for the duration, and afterward held something called a 'moot' - a curious word, Entish in origin, according to Merry and Pippin - and resolved our differences very amicably. Frodo drew up a detailed contract, Ilbereth and I signed it, and it was witnessed in red ink by the members of the Fellowship and by the NPB , who affixed his paw print.

I was very sorry indeed to see my new friends depart the next day, but they have promised to return for a more leisurely visit in the off-season. The NPB and I are already making plans!

All that is left for me to do is to wish you and yours the Merriest of Christmases and the Happiest of New Years (and if you happen to come across a good explanation of 'consumer price index', please send it along; I'm still not quite certain what that means.)

Yours in the Spirit of the Season and Everlasting Fellowship,

 

Father Christmas


End file.
